Phantom Destination
by PalladiumPoison
Summary: Would you die to keep the time stream going? How many times? And what would you do to guarantee you're own existence and survival, Dan Phantom? High T - Low M
1. Chapter 1

_ Who is this…? What is this? A cosmic force? Fate? Destiny? Or something darker…that must be it. Death possibly… a series of crashes…tragedies…that seem natural enough. Normal almost. A train, a bus…they can crash on their own, right? Happens every day…but something about this…these seemingly unconnected deaths and tragedies HAD to be interloped. _

_ Why?_

_ What makes me think—no, KNOW this? _

_ It's this man…he's in every picture…proclaimed dead fifteen times but shows up in the next tragedy. How? How is this possible…is it possible…that this man…_

_ Is Death himself?_

-x-

_**Four Months Earlier**_

___Tick tock…_

I fidget nervously, an unusual action for me to do.

_Tick tock…_

I put my hand over the palm sized clock implanted in my chest, the fabric of my black overcoat and white button up shirt hiding the blaringly obvious accessory. Clockwork never was one for subtly.

_Tick tock…_

I feel like everyone else on the bus can hear it. That damn loud strike of each hand on the clock, over and over.

_Tick tock…_

"Hey, buddy, you alright?" I jump as a hand is placed on my shoulder, and I spin around, grabbing his wrist in my powerful hand. He's skinny, young, and my hand easily wraps his entire wrist, "Hey! I was just trying to help! Let me go!" My arm is shaking. I release his wrist, turning to look out the window.

_Tick-tock, tick-tock…_

The clock picks up pace, and I place my hand over it again, trying to shush it. No one is looking at me as I stare at the steering wheel of the bus. The bus driver knows nothing. But I know everything. Damn Clockwork…I can see it. I can see what's about to happen.

_Tick-tock-tick-tock…_

I'm looking around at the group of people around me. Some sluts coming home from a party. Some drunk frat guys hounding after them. Businessmen half-awake as they type on their phones. But it's one in the morning; no children are on this bus. No good people. Not that I care in particular, but children are so much more annoying when they're dying…so much high pitched screaming.

_Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock…_

And then it happens. The airbag in the bus steering wheel spontaneously expands, slamming the bus driver's head into the back of the seat and knocking him out. His foot goes limp on the pedal, and the bus speeds, slowly going faster, and faster still, no one controlling the wheel so it swerves back and forth. No one notices because of the drunk sluts who are having a screaming/stripping match. Exactly how it's supposed to be.

_Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock…_

I pick up a magazine forgotten under the seat, crossing one leg over the other, bouncing my foot slightly as a car honks and swerves wildly to avoid the bus. Now some are starting to notice. They look out the windows, shocked at the speed (170 MPH) we're going. Cars are swerving past us, trying desperately to avoid the death trap this bus has become. The bus driver's body suddenly gets thrown sideways, causing the wheel to make a sudden 90 degree turn.

_Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock…_

My clock is going triple its normal rate as the bus suddenly tips on its side, starting to bounce and roll along the street, still speeding at a ridiculously fast pace. I'm thrown from my seat into a window, my shoulder cracking it and then shattering it as a businessman is tossed into my gut. But I'm not thrown out the window. I'm tossed to the front of the bus now, my back slamming into the front windshield as a slut's head knocks against mine.

My vision becomes double as our skulls crack, our brains rattling in our skulls. She's dead. Before I know it, I'm on the roof of the bus now, a steel pipe exposed and it stabs through my shoulder, causing a short scream of pain to rattle out of my throat before I'm thrown beneath some seats, my leg snapping as it slams into a support bar under the seats. For a few moments, I'm pinned, watching the others who are still clinging to life mixed with the dead bodies be thrown around the bus and out of the shattered windows as well.

Then the seat I'm pinned under breaks, freeing me and sending me into the workings of the roof. My head gets caught in some cables, and they wrap around my neck as I fall back through the ceiling, effectively hanging me in a noose.

_Tick….tock…._

My clock is slowing as I gasp for air, twitching. I can't fight to take off the noose. My right hand is shattered, my left wrist is in the opposite directions it should go. The bus sways as it comes to a stop, a crowd starting to gather around it. The cable is starting to slice into my neck, ectoplasm and blood rising from the wound. It's going dark now…

_Tick…._

The clock stops, and I clamp my eyes shut, ready and waiting as everything fades to black.

My job is done.

-x-

_Goooood morning, Amity Park! The weather this morning is nasty, with thunderstorms and heavy rain forecasted to last through today into tomorrow! _

"Then _why _are you so happy about it?" Danny asks the bedside radio, burrowing deeper into his blankets and pulling them over his head, blindly reaching out for the radio snooze button. He can just be late for school. Not like it would be the first time.

_In other news, there was a he-UGE bus crash around 1 AM just outside of Amity! Over 27 dead in the bus itself and 30 killed from the bus crushing cars and running people over! Bummer! _

Danny's hand freezes over the snooze button, now at full attention.

_Yep, the crash was just next to the Amity Park border, and was scheduled to arrive at the Amity Park Bus Station at 1:20 this morning, but because of a faulty airbag, the bus driver was knocked out, and the bus rolled at least…20 times! Gnarly! _

Danny, annoyed with how upbeat the announcer was being, flicks off the alarm clock, turning on his TV and sitting up, blankets still wrapped around himself.

_-among the victims was an unidentifiable man. He held no wallet, money, credit cards or formal ID. No one has claimed his body or positively identified him. The only thing found to be used as an identification mark would be a CLOCK found implanted in his chest. The face of the clock was shattered, and the purpose of it is unknown—_

Danny turns off the TV, shaking his head. Fifty-seven people…dead. Because he'd decided it was a slow night. He'd been flying home at one! He could have stopped it…and he hadn't. He stands, running his hands through his mess of hair, odd black strands poking up in every direction. It was true that he had enjoyed getting more sleep than he usually did, but not at the cost of 57 lives.

He looks out the window at the stormy skies, rain beating against his window. School is out of the question. It would be his luck if a ghost had caused that crash, and if the crash had been around Amity, it was more than likely for the crash to have been onset by ghosts. But he had to put on the usual song and dance for his parents, so he quickly got dressed, brushing down his hair into a manageable mess.

As he stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth impatiently, he couldn't help but feel something…off. Like he was missing some big clue. His brushing slows and he looks to the closed shower curtain, feeling stupid for suspecting a ghost would hide in the shower, but with the Box Ghost running around, who's to say there isn't a Shower Ghost?

He yanks aside the show curtains, nothing in the shower. He huffs in annoyance, a shampoo bottle falling on its side, shampoo leaking out onto the floor, unnoticed, as he inspects the shower for a moment, turning. He stands still for a moment, the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and he gnaws on it nervously, still feeling that off sensation. He steps forward, slipping in the spilt shampoo and grabbing the sink to support him. But the sink snaps off the wall, the screws holding it there breaking and sending the heavy porcelain sink towards Danny as he lands on his back on the ground.

He gasps, the toothbrush falling from his mouth, and rolls out of the way last minute as the sink slams into the ground where Danny's head had been, the porcelain shattering into hundreds of pieces. Water spurts out of the wall where the sink had been, soaking Danny and the bathroom. He sits up slowly, shocked, and grips his porcelain pierced shoulder, staring at the mess around him.

He stands shakily, shaking the water out of his hair and carefully backing away from the bathroom and out of the door, knowing that if he hadn't rolled out of the way last minute—no. He couldn't think like that. Because it hadn't happened. And it won't. It's not like someone is out to get him…

Is there?

-x-

"This job isn't for me, Clockwork. I'm not doing it again." I sit back, crossing one leg over the other and crossing my arms like a stubborn child, that damn clock ticking away in my chest.

"Would you like to return to the thermos?" Clockwork huffs, not looking at me as I drop down from my perch, stalking over to him.

"What if I just ran off while I was in one of your little 'missions'?"

"You know the consequences of such an action." I growl and cross my arms, stepping up behind him.

"You think you're _so _smart, don't you?"

"No. I know I am smart." He's still not looking at me, but I can catch the slight amused smile on his face.

"Ha. So funny I forgot to laugh, old man." I turn from him, my cape billowing out dramatically.

"You know, Daniel—"

"Don't call me that." He looks at me, disinterested.

"You know, _Daniel, _that if you aren't happy with your current task, you are going to be very unhappy with your next one." That smirk. That fucking all-knowing smirk of his…how I'd love to smack it right off his smug face.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Well, it seems the Observants have created a task for you."

"I can tell you right now, no. I won't do it." I wait for Clockwork to protest, but he doesn't say anything. He just stands there. And ignores me.

Hell-to-the-no.

"I'm not doing it…whatever it is." Ignored. I snarl, grabbing his shoulder. I don't expect his time staff to swing around and slam into the side of my head, sending me to the ground.

"Son of a…" I rub my bleeding temple, glaring up at him.

"I have been kind enough to regenerate your body after you die, and you show so little appreciation? Daniel, you agreed to do this, and I'm holding you to your promise. You need to learn some integrit—" I jump up, my fist catching Clockwork's jaw. If I was smart, I would've stopped there. I then tackle him in a wave of fury. Fury at having to sacrifice my comfort, and my life (REPEATEDLY) for a cause I could care less about. The time stream. Dinosaurs could munch on flying cars for how many fucks I give about the time stream.

He puts one well-placed punch into the clock in the center of my chest, and I go limp, and he phases out from beneath me as I lay on the ground. Clockwork twirls his staff for a moment before slamming the end of it against my chest, right above the twitching clock.

"As I was _saying, _you agreed to this, and you knew the consequences of not fulfilling your duties when you signed the contract. So…you will do anything and everything the Observants demand of you. Understood?" I stare up at him.

"…fuck no." I grab his cloak, tearing the purple fabric to shreds with a grin. The butt of his staff slams into my forehead, shattering my skull and he quickly pulls it out, wiping it on the tattered remains of his cloak.

"I'm not helping you until you agree, Daniel." I know I won't last long with a shattered skull and bashed clock, so I have no choice. Exactly like he wants it.

"Fine." In an instant I'm healed. My clock quickly coming back together and picking up its regular pace, and my skull quickly solidifies its regular form. Bastard. "How long are you going to keep this up? You know I can't keep dying and coming back like this…that bus crash was a big enough hell on me as it was…" Clockwork nods.

"This will go on until you complete the task that proves you are worthy of their time. People are objects to the Observants. They want to make you useful, and the only use they can think of that fits you is what most call 'Death.'" He plays with the knob on his time staff, not looking at me.

"Well? What is it?"

"Sometimes their decisions go over my head." He turns from me, watching the viewing portals disinterestedly, "This is one of those times." I'm becoming nervous now, but refuse to show it.

"Daniel, the Observants have set out to kill Danny. But it is for a purpose." I laugh.

"Why should I care? The kid's been nothing but trouble to me. Let him die."

"Danny is your task."

"Ha—what?"

"They have set out to have Danny killed to prove several things of you. If you succeed in keeping him alive, this will prove your endurance, problem solving, innovativeness, and general ability. If you fail, this will prove you are worthless to them. They will dispose of you. So we cannot simply 'Let him die,' you must keep him alive for the same purpose you had to ensure that bus crashed. Because it is meant to be. Danny is not meant to die yet, and those people on the bus were meant _to _die." I watch him for any sign of a lie, even a small one, but I find nothing but cold truth in his eyes.

"So I have to protect Danny now?"

"Yes, while still ensuring certain tragedies do happen. The two instances coincide soon. An amusement park…Parkland, just outside of Amity. Danny and his friends are planning to go to it this Saturday. You either convince Danny and his friends not to go, or save them repeatedly from the Observants various plans to kill them, or they all parish and, by consequence, you parish." I'm forced to believe him. What evidence do I have against him?

"Along with ensuring Danny and his friends don't die, you must also ensure that others do. Certain people are destined to die Saturday at Parkland, so you must guarantee that they do. Do not protect anyone besides Danny and his friends. Even if you see a tragedy coming far in advance. Do you understand?"

"I don't have a whole lot of a choice, now do I?"

-x-

The bus crash site is nearly gone. The rain has washed away most of the blood, and the bodies have been cleared out by the city coroners. The only thing that remains as evidence is the torn up asphalt and scraps of metal that used to make up a bus. Danny lands invisibly in the center of what used to be the center of the crash, but is now a torn and jagged crater with a few chunks of human remains here and there. He shifts the backpack on his shoulders, the accessory looking odd on his ghost form.

If a ghost had interfered, there was no way of knowing now. He sighs, kicking at a piece of shrapnel. He knows this could have been prevented. That he could have been the one to prevent it. But he didn't. He turns from the wreckage, going down an alley and changing back to his Fenton form with a sigh. He looks in the direction of the school, knowing there is no avoiding it now that he has no leads, and slowly starts walking toward the school, ignoring the torrents of rain.

It's dark with the constant cloud cover and he shudders, wrapping his arms around himself as an unusually cold wind howls down the street; a streetlight just a few feet from him wavers in its setting. As he continues walking, he stops when his backpack strap snaps, sending the contents of his backpack flying into the street and onto the sidewalk.

"Perfect." He grumbles, picking up his backpack and gathering his books from the sidewalk before moving to pick his other books from the road. The wind howls again, the streetlight rattling more violently, the bulb shaking in its socket. Danny moves to the street, picking up a soaked book from the gutter and moving out towards the center of the street. The sound of a car approaching is masked by a roll of thunder, and the wind picks up once more, sending the streetlight crashing down into the opposite side of the street from Danny.

He jumps slightly, shocked and staring at the downed light only inches from him. Then the car approaches, swerving wildly as the driver sees the downed light. Danny only looks up in time to see the car come last minute, the head lights blind him as he stumbles backwards in an attempt to get out of the way of the oncoming car, but the road is slick with the day's rain and he falls back, now so low on the ground that driver can't see him.

So this is the end?

-x-

I pulled the cloak hood over my head, tightening the drawstring around my neck. Rain is definitely not my friend. With it being this damp outside, my usual flame hair is unlit, making it regular white hair. It was a 'damper' on my usually fierce look. Ha, puns. Now…I have to find Danny. I sigh, darting through alleyways towards the only place he might be. School.

Then again, Danny's school record was about as consistent and full of holes as Swiss cheese. It was when I heard the car horn that I froze, spinning around to see Danny, lying in the middle of the road, frozen with fear as a car comes speeding towards him.

"This isn't happening." I snort and shoot forward, running across the road and picking up Danny as I go, the car shooting by with a slight swerve. I don't land well. My back hits the other side of the street, Danny rolling slightly, still shell-shocked as his ghost sense leaves his mouth. I cough, rubbing the clock in my chest, watching the cars hind lights and flipping it off as it goes.

"Asshole!" I stand, throwing one of Danny's books at it, the book smashing the cars back window. Danny sits up then, looking up at me and I pull the hood down lower over my face, hiding most of it with fabric and the rest of it with shadows.

"Er…t-thanks…" He stutters, shakily standing. I step back and roughly hand him his backpack. He's staring at me, studying the dark cloak I wear that flows to the ground, "Well…uh…I'm going now…" He turns to leave and I watch him, quickly becoming invisible before Danny turns back to say something, "Hey, if you wa—hello?" He's confused, looking around. After a few more moments of looking, Danny leaves, giving up on his ruined books on the road and returning to wherever he'd been walking before.

It seems he's gotten smarter, understanding that flying in this whether is asking for trouble. At least I don't have to warn him of that. I follow him silently, the rain continuing to pour down in sheets, and Danny walks up to the school entrance looking around himself with paranoia. Good. The paranoid don't die as soon as the relaxed.

Or, at least, that's how I am hoping it goes.

-x-

Wooo! OKAY…so, this is…mediocre. Meh. The whole clock in his chest thing needs to be explained XP AND the dude with his clock in his chest IS Dan. If you're all confused XD The clock is keeping him alive. Being out of the timeline makes him basically fade into nothing without the clock, so that's basically his life support.

If you don't like, don't flame. Don't be a hater. And I'd like to point out, this story is a SIDE story. Meaning I update whenever I damn well please. So don't expect regular updates. ~ QueenSkellington


	2. Chapter 2

_ I'm bored. Not like that's uncommon for being at school, but when I was almost run over this morning, you'd think I'd have a little more on my mind than just…nothing. And that's it. I can't think about anything. Every time I grasp a subject to ponder, it just seems to dissipate like I'm trying to hold water in a strainer. I can't even register the words coming from Lancer's mouth no matter how hard I listen or focus. It's just…nonsense. Like it isn't even English. _

_ And suddenly, this feeling hits me like I've been punched in the stomach and I double over my desk, gripping my head. It's this sense of overwhelming and total __**dread**__ and I close my eyes, trying to shake off the feeling. _

_ "Mr. Lancer! I need to go to the bathroom!" I don't wait for him to answer, because I don't care if he says yes or no, I'm so out of here. I stand from my desk, almost knocking it over in my rush as I run for the door, grabbing the handle firmly and turning it. _

_**Crack. **_

___My blood runs cold as I look down at my hand, the broken doorknob clutched in my suddenly shaking hand. I drop it to the ground where it lands with a dull clink. My eyes flicker back to the classroom, seeing that literally every eye in the room is staring at me. I can't phase through the door with their attention so intently trained on me. _

_ But I __**have **__to get out of here. I can hear my heartbeat like my heart is in my head, my stomach feels like it has been shoved into my neck, and this sense of overall hopelessness seems to drown me. Something bad is going to happen, and no one else cares. Mr. Lancer approaches me, his eyes worried as he tries to ask something but that gibberish comes out of his mouth, unintelligible. _

_ I squirm away from him, tripping over an empty desk and land hard on my back. The ground feels hot—too hot—and I look past Lancer and out the tiny window in the classroom door. _

_ Fire. I can see the flames lick down the hallway hungrily, devouring the lockers and making the metal bend and wilt like decaying flowers. It devours the doors on the left side of the hallway, trapping students in their classrooms. But it's when the fire reaches a half open locker, a can of hairspray clearly visible inside it, that the real chaos starts. The flames are quick to tear away at the pressurized can, and it takes off like a rocket, smashing through the classroom door's window and slams into Lancer's head. The heated metal smashes a hole right through the temple of his skull and his corpse drops like a stone in front of me. _

_ Panic is a fitting description for what comes next. Every student in the room screams, all of them jolting from their desks like a live wire has been run through their seats. They crowd the door, but the handle has already started to melt where I dropped it on the ground. They then go for the small window on the other side of the room that leads outside, and I stagger to a standing position to see that the West wing of the High School has already caught flames. _

_ I know I can stop this, I just need somewhere to go ghost—my thoughts are shattered like the window glass and the panicked students eagerly try to all get out of the window at once. By the time I make it across the room, one girl is thrown aside, her neck catching on one of the window shards and it slices her neck cleanly. She's dead before she hits the ground. I stand back in horror, watching as only a handful of students make it out the window and look down to see three unlucky kids have been trampled, their bones and organs sticking out of them unnaturally. _

_ I look up then to climb out the window after those few students that had made it out of the building but I see the oncoming disaster before they do. A tall wooden pole bearing electrical wire has been burned at its base, the pole snapping with a definite crack where the flames have licked away at it and it seems to fall in slow motion. _

_ "No!" My voice is lost in the sound of the pole falling on those last remaining students, their blood being forcefully thrown aside and splattering the side of the building and I feel their overheated blood splatter across my cheek and run down from my sweat soaked forehead. _

_ I blink in disbelief, feeling the rooms temperature rise like a preheating oven and it's not long before the fire makes its way into the room, filling it with smoke and the scent of burning flesh. I have to suppress my gag as I stagger out of the broken window, shards catching my jeans and causing me to land roughly, my own blood staining the side of the building along with the classmates. _

_ Screaming. That's all I can hear is the __**screaming. **__I try to stand, but my knees buckle as I clamp my hands over my ears, my sweat soaked hair flattening over my eyes. I just want it to stop. It needs to __**stop. **_

_ But it doesn't._

_ I scream as I feel the white hot burn of fire catching my shoes, the rubber soles melting and I immediately throw them off, scrambling to my feet as I run. There's no one alive around me, and I hop over a pile of burning corpses as I try to drag that icy feeling of my ghost half over me like a chilled blanket. _

_ But it doesn't come. _

_ "Come on!" I cry out but am interrupted as I skid down the hallway, the overheated tile of the floor burning my feet. There's a hollow rumbling, like some giant beast has awakened underground and I look around hurriedly, trying to ignore the oppressing heat pressing down on me from every direction. And then I see the shadow. I don't know if it's real, but there's a shape looming by the melting lockers. It approaches me, too clam for the situation, and as it comes closer I can make out more of its features. _

_ I find that it is a he, and he isn't in great shape. Half of his face is burned to a crisp, bright ectoplasm flowing down to his scarred and torn neck. His eyes are barely open from swelling, but I can see ruby red slits that match the fire clinging to his clothes, burning his flowing cape and skin tight latex right against his skin. _

_ "N-No…it can't be…" He doesn't reply for a moment as he grabs the front of my torn and bloody shirt. I stare in disgust and horror as I scorched piece of his skin slides from his arm, the bulging muscle shifting there in the open._

_ "Danny…" He purrs like he knows some great secret, the rumble growing more forceful beneath us as if to accentuate his words. _

_ "Oh, Danny…" His burnt lips go up into a smirk, and the last remaining lights overhead explode with the heat, making the fire surrounding us cast Dan's features in a devilish glow. _

_ "Your time is up, Danny." And with those last, deafening words the rumble builds into a crescendo as the doors down the hallway explode off their hinges, a monstrous fireball speeding down the hallway towards us like an enraged dragon baring its searing fangs._

_ And he laughs. _

_ He laughs as the flames engulf us, eat at our skin, tear at our bones and melt away everything we ever were._

_ He laughs. _

_-x-_

When I wake up, I scream. I scream so loudly that my voice cracks and the scream takes on a strange two tone quality. The sweat on my skin soaks my clothes and makes my hair mat to my forehead and ears, and I shake and quiver with the absolute reality of the nightmare.

"Mr. Fenton?" I blink, looking up at the front of the fully intact classroom to see a very alive Lancer staring at me, his hand still on the chalkboard and in the middle of writing a poem. I wipe at my face, smearing the tears gathered their across my cheeks, "Is there something wrong?"

"_WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" _The words rip from my throat as if someone else is saying them, and I shoot from my desk, almost falling over with the force of my shaking. I shove past the desks blocking me from the door and skid to a stop in front of it.

"Mr. Fenton! I think you need to go to the nurse—" I take in a shuddering breath as I look down at my hand. The knob is broken off in my hand, gleaming there innocently.

"Oh God…oh God…" I'm on the verge of hyperventilating, pressing myself against the door, "Oh God, no…"

"Mr. Fenton—" I reel around so quickly that I slam into Lancer, and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs before I even know what I'm saying.

"Don't you 'FENTON' me! We're going to DIE! Don't you get it?" My voice quivers and shakes, everyone in the class giving me strange looks, "This whole place is going to burn to the ground—you have to listen to me!" The tears of fear and frustration force themselves forward and I step back to take a running start at the door. Lancer's hand grabs my shoulder though and he stops me.

"How do you know that? What makes you think that?"

"I don't have time to explain!" I shove his hand away, charging the door. But the impact never comes. As I charge the door it flies open and I find myself stumbling forward into a pair of hard arms.

"I am so sorry about this, I'll go take my…cousin home. He didn't take his medication today." That voice…it chills me to the bone. I look down at the arms holding me to see a flash of turquoise skin beneath his hoodie sleeves, and stark white hair on his chin when I look up to his cloaked face.

"Da—" My cry of surprise is cut off as he plants one of his large hands over the bottom half of my face and drags me away as I struggle and thrash.

"Shut up, Danny. I'm trying to save you, you little idiot." He growls under his breath, yanking on my hair with the other hand that isn't busy on my mouth. I snarl in rage, jutting out my jaw and biting hard on his middle finger, feeling ectoplasm fill my mouth.

But all that results is a low rumbling hiss I can feel rattling from his chest against my back as he drags me outside and tosses me down onto the grass.

"What are you doing here?" I yell as I stand and wipe my mouth, watching him suspiciously, "You're the one who's trying to burn down the school, aren't you?—I know it's you! I saw it!" My words come out like a waterfall, tumbling over my lips so quickly that they slur together a bit.

"No. That's some idiot Senior's fault. He threw a cigarette in a trashcan full of paper towels about…five seconds ago—" He points a thumb over his shoulder at the smoke rising from the West wing, "And it's _his _fault this fire started." I immediately pull forth my ghost half, the rings forming easily around my midsection this time in contrast to the nightmare.

"I have to save them!" I say as I float, preparing to fly towards the burning West wing, but I feel his hand catch my ankle and throw me back onto the ground.

"No you don't. They're supposed to die. Leave them alone."

"But Sam and Tucker—" He shakes his head.

"I unplugged their alarm clocks. They're still at their houses." The sound of shattering windows rings out across the campus and the deafening screaming soon follows.

"Mmm…" I hear Dan purr, "Listen to that." He holds a hand up to his pointed ear with a satisfied smirk, "Oh, you can almost _hear _their skin melting off." His words are followed by a harsh, barking laugh.

"What is _wrong with you?" _I snarl at him, trying to fly back to the school again but an ectoplasmic rope catches my waist and he yanks back, sending me against his stone chest.

"Listen to it, Danny." The suffering screams of hundreds of students ring through the ear, making me squirm uncomfortably as I try to free myself, "Can't you feel that? That tingle down your spine; that thrill in your brain, knowing _you're _coming out of this alive and they aren't." And to my horror, I do feel it. I feel everything he's describing.

Molten electricity runs through my veins as I think more about it, pumping into my heart and seeming to explode in spontaneous bursts of energy, making my spine tingle as he described and neurons to fire off on my brain, making my adrenalin sore.

"No! I don't feel it—w-whatever you're talking about!" I shove myself away from him, tugging at the ectoplasmic rope around my waist, frustrated. He chuckles, shaking his head.

"Hilarious." He sniffs, licking him lips with a grin, "Smell that? Barbecue's on. What do you like on your steak?"

"You're sick!"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"You're stalling!"

"You just now figured that out?" He inspects his nails nonchalantly, "I'm still waiting for the million dollar question." I stumble over my words, making dumbfounded sputtering sounds of annoyance as I try to figure out what he means.

"Um…well…" He flashes his fangs predatorily.

"I see that you aren't going to figure out what I'm talking about. I don't know why I expected any different—"

"Hey!"

"—_anyway, _I see you won't be figuring out why I'm here any time soon, so…I suppose I'll take my leave." He does a mock gentlemanly bow before disappearing in a flourish of white flames, the ectoplasmic rope disappearing with him. I growl, tensing to follow him before the smoke hits me like a wall. I'm blinded by the overwhelming smoke for a few moments, and I light my hand with ectoplasmic energy, the smoke suppressing it so its range is only a few feet at most. But once the smoke clears, I wish it hadn't.

I gape at the burnt remains of the school as fire trucks finally arrive, but I don't notice them completely. It's all so…I can't describe the absolute carnage. Blood and ash are _everywhere. _I blink as if it will wipe away this awful reality, but it remains.

And it's all.

My.

Fault.

I could have saved them if…if I had tried hard enough. If I had done _something _to get them out of there.

"—son? Kid, are you alright?" I look up at the firefighter staring down at me, "You're one lucky kid. How'd you make it out of there." I don't answer him though. I simply stand and run.

Maybe if I run far enough, I'll escape my failure.

So I run.

-x-

"He's a menace!"

"He's reviled himself to Daniel!"

"He's an absolute menace!"

"You already said that." I says apathetically, my arms crossed over my chest and my time staff clutched in one hand.

"Because he is such a menace, it needs to be stated several times!"

"I'm aware. I know he's a menace, and I know he's a threat to humanity, but I have him under control. You already signed the contract, you can't revoke your promise to make him Death." I look up at the council of Observants surrounding me, unfazed.

"And we are aware of that. But he's reviled himself to Daniel—"

"But he hasn't revealed his purpose. As far as Daniel knows, Dan is just…a loose convict." I smirk, knowing their argument is void, "So, really, I'm a busy man. I should be going." An Observant catches my attention though. Something is odd about him. A gleam in his eye makes me suspicious, and I pause.

"Is there something you need, Clockwork?" I continue to study him for a moment. I've never liked being blind to the future, and in regards to the Observants, they've always been a blind spot in my view of the time stream.

"Just…wondering something."

"Oh?"

"Yes…" I tap my fingers against my staff, rubbing my beard before it disappears, "What do you have planned?"

"Planned? Who says I have anything planned?" I arch a brow and he shakes his head, blinking his single eye slowly.

"Stupid question, I know. I should've known you'd see through me." I press my lips together tightly.

"What is there to see through?"

"Quite a bit, as it turns out. I've been…thinking of a few things, though."

"And what would those be?"

"There isn't enough on the line for you." I'm struck by the rare feeling of surprise but keep it hidden behind a mask of indifference.

"Since you don't seem to be aware, I'll tell you what exactly is 'on the line' for me _every day. _I have to keep thousands of alternate time lines separate and running smoothly or risk _the entire universe _falling apart. And that isn't enough _on the line_?" I shake my head, calming myself. It was rare for outbursts like this to happen, but on the off occasion that they did, a few universes ended up getting altered.

"Of course it is. But there isn't enough on the line in regards to Dan. You have really no motivation for his success or failure. I've been thinking of ways to…keep you motivated." I narrow my eyes with an indifferent scowl.

"What ways have you considered?" The Observant sits back.

"Fitting with who your charge is, it's a very…life or death deal."

"I'm already dead."

"Exactly."

-x-

A/N:: And that, kids, is what fire drills are for :U ANYWAY…sorry this update took forever. DX I've literally written four versions of this chapter and did not like ANY of them. GDI. So…this is what you get. AND YOU WILL LIKE IT.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the repost. ruined my link.

-x-

I hate running.

I really, really, _really _hate running. I struggle to pull in air as I run before my feet stop touching the ground and I find myself flying. It's not by a conscious choice, it's more of my own sanity desperately trying to preserve itself. And I'm no longer in control.

Fifty.

Sixty.

Seventy.

When I hit eighty miles per hour the barrier between my skin and the air might as well not even exist. I like the feeling, so I push myself faster, and faster still until the buildings beneath me disappear. I'm way outside Amity at this point, and that makes me breathe easier. If I've left Amity behind, maybe I left the guilt there too…

Nope. Still here.

But I can't run much longer. Even this body has its limits, and it's fast approaching them with this constant extreme speed being kept up. I try to keep it up anyway, clenching my fists defiantly as I push forward, but I can see myself starting to fall, my energy slowly running out as I start heading for a nosedive into an open field. A few cows inhabiting the field look up at me lazily and I start to panic as I come within a few dozen feet of the ground, now not even having the power to stop myself from plummeting straight into the ground, or going intangible to try and ease the fall.

I search with my eyes for a tree or anything to catch myself on, but I find the only thing waiting for me is a very sharp, _very deadly, _farming machine the blades used for slicing the corn stalks from the ground glaring up at me dangerously, inviting me into its jaws. I give it my best effort to move out of the path of the lumbering beast of blades, but when I'm this close to it, there isn't much I can do.

_I am going to die. For real, this time. _

I clamp my eyes shut, preparing for the gruesome impact. Just a few more moments and everything will end. I can hear the blades now, growling and grunting like a living thing, I even feel one of the blades grab hold of my bangs, slicing a portion of it off. But then I feel something else. They're like stone beams that wrap around my chest and stomach, before jolting me to the right, the beams wrapping tightly around me as whatever's grabbed me slams into the ground, skidding through the jungle of corn like a comet before it comes to rest in a pile of dirt and the remains of corn stalks resting beneath it.

I open my eyes, taking in a sharp breath, allowing myself to breathe and my heart's rapid pace to return to normal. Then the groan sound. I pick myself up from the dirt, wiping the blood from my chin as I look over to see a flaming blue mass, half buried in dirt.

Oh hell no.

"What are you doing here?" I try to ask threateningly, but the various injuries make it difficult for the words to come out as much more than a murmur. He doesn't respond with more than a groan, rolling the muscles in his shoulders for a moment before he plants his hands on the ground, pushing himself up before he grunts, pushing himself onto his back.

"Hey! I said, what are you doing here?" I stand shakily, shaking dirt from my flattened hair. He's not moving, but I can see the dirt shifting on his chest as he pulls in air. It's a trick, it must be. He's waiting for me to get close enough so he can spring. And I'm right, he does move, but it's not towards me, it's away. I can see his eyes shoot open and he rolls on his side, coughing heavily. The green of the ectoplasm splatters on the dark soil, and I continue moving forward, confused.

_Squish. _

I look down; staring at what I'd stepped in in absolute disgust. Whatever it is, it's glowing, but the glow is quickly fading like a dying light bulb. I step back from it, trying to figure out what exactly I'd stepped on. It's long, and tube like, and I follow the tube to where it seems to have originated. And that's when it hits me.

It's his _intestines. _They seem to be stitched together as if they're made from mismatched rags.

I gag immediately, seeing his hands tighten on his stomach as he rolls back onto his back. His hands seem to be the only thing holding his stomach together and his hoodie and whatever shirt he'd been wearing are torn wide open, and I can see something else odd on his torso. It's a clock seeming to have been surgically attached in his chest, and it's not ticking normally. It counts every fifth second or so, and it's getting slower.

"Um…" I don't honestly know what to say and suddenly he fills the silence.

"Well…" and he actually _laughs_, "That's one hell of a paper cut."

"Uh…yeah." And I feel like a total idiot. _Yeah? _He's gutted like a fish and I just say _yeah?_ I feel like I've stepped in ice water suddenly, and look down to find his midsection has faded away into a mist, decomposing rapidly, his legs soon following and I immediately step back, making little more than a confused noise. The mist he seems to be devolving into follows up to his chest, eating away at what's there, all but that clock. And as soon as the flesh there is turned to mist as well, the clock falls to the soil with an empty clatter.

And just like that, he's gone.

All but that _clock. _

It's stopped ticking, and I just stare at it before slowly bending to pick it up, making sure not to touch anything but the face of it. As I take it into my hands, I feel how absolutely warm it is, almost burning hot. My gloves save my hands from being burnt, but it doesn't keep me from feeling the pulse in it. Like a heartbeat. That's it. It's a heart. But the question is, why did he have it?

-x-

I sigh, carefully threading the needle before turning back to his body. I place the needle against his cheek, pressing it through his skin and connecting the two sides of his skin together. I continue like this, slowly connecting the face to the rest of his head, letting out a soft sigh as I connect the last stitch to the first, cutting the string and putting the needle aside.

I already have the hair set out at this point, and carefully place the first eyebrow over his gaping eye, starting to carefully stitch it into place, doing the same with the other after checking they're even. I then carefully apply the eyelashes and finally work my way to the goatee. I take a moment to smooth the hair and step back to examine my work.

Darn it.

I let out a frustrated sigh, taking the scalpel from the small table and do a quick incision, slicing his ear from him. The point at the top doesn't seem to have wanted to form right and I simply toss it away, instantaneously forming a new one and stitching it into the place of the former one. I nod, satisfied with my work on his face and go to work creating his eyes. It's not an easy thing, not at all. I first form the backdrop, which is the majority of the eyes, and then I work on making the pupils. The two black dots appear quickly, perfectly in the center. Then comes the irises. As soon as I imagine them, the red color floods out from the pupils, surrounding them perfectly in two circles of blood red. Now comes the hard part, insertion.

I turn to him, taking out the small tool that holds his lids open to the empty sockets and I connect the sinewy strands connected to the eyes to their correct nerves before adjusting the eyes in the sockets. I let his eyes close, stepping back. He should be waking up very soon, and I still haven't put on his right hand, sewn up his stomach, or erased his stitches.

"Mornin', Doc." He grumbles, the words making the stitches on his lips and connecting to the corners of his mouth tense and flex.

"Shhh, you're going to tear he stitches." For once he listens, keeping quiet, "I'm not quite finished, be patient." He doesn't nod, mindful of the stitches connecting his head to his neck, but I know he understands. I quickly stitch up his stomach, expertly sewing him shut before attaching his right hand with the same practiced movements.

"You done?"

"Yes. Just wait a moment, your nervous system will connect in a moment."

"I know, Clockwork." His eyebrows twitch, the newly placed follicles adjusting to the movement.

"You're wasting bodies too quickly, you know." I start putting away my medical tools as I speak.

"I know that too."

"I didn't have time to build this body in advance; I didn't even get to erase your stitches." I close the drawers quietly, knowing his new eardrums are overly sensitive to background noise. His lack of response shows his frustration in how little control he has over that. How quickly he dies. This is his fifth body, and every time he's reintroduced to a body, he has to learn it again, and I know how fiercely he hates it. A part of me is amused at his frustration, while another part really does feel a minuscule amount of pity for him.

That pity quickly disappears when I remember what exactly he's done with the life he was originally given. We gave him freedom, we gave him choices, and he threw it back in our faces. He crushed those weaker than him simply for the fun of watching them squirm. He should die a million times to understand even a fraction of the pain he caused others. And he will. But then I think of the extra stake the Observant had put up that causes me to pause in my death wishes.

My existence as Master of Time is on the line for the very man I find to be little more than a terribly annoying mosquito. The afterlife just isn't fair.

-x-

I've been staring at this clock for a long time now. And since it doesn't seem to be ticking, and it doesn't have a battery of any sort, I don't know for how long exactly. The glass face of it is cracked, but not shattered, and the back of it seems to explode into a network of wires, all of them still slick with ectoplasm.

"Danny!" I ignore the call, my eyes tracing the Victorian style numbers, each one exaggerated and intricate.

"Danny!" There's a heavy knock on my door and I sigh, opening the drawer of my desk, gently lowering the clock into before closing it quickly as the door is thrown open, "Danny-boy!" Dad booms, and almost immediately there's some device shoved in my face.

"Look'it what I invented—"

"_We, _Jack." I hear Mom pipe up, but I can't see her behind the mountain that is Dad.

"Right! We! Look at what we invented!" His grin takes up ninety percent of his face as he pulls the device from directly in front of my nose, concentrating and quickly turning various nobs and buttons on it.

"Um…what does it do?" I stand, immediately on guard against it.

"Oh, it'll zap a ghost down right until it's…it's…what's the word, Maddie?"

"Immobilized. It blocks the radiations frequency that allows for flight in a ghost. If they can't fly, they can't get away as easily."

"Oh…so why are you…showing me?"

"Because it's great! And I'm pretty sure it works." Dad says ecstatically and I hear the device whir to life. I hear the whine almost immediately, and it peaks in a screech as I press my hands over my ears with a cringe. I feel Mom's hand on my shoulder but I continue to double over, grinding my teeth together in pain before I force my eyes open and look up, watching them. I can hear Mom's mouth moving and the worried expression on her face, but I can't hear the words I know must be coming out.

She turns her head to Dad, clearly telling him to shut it off. His finger flicks an on/off switch but the whine only intensifies, making me fall from my chair and hold my head, grinding my teeth so hard that I accidentally bite my cheek, blood filling my mouth before the device explodes. The shrapnel from it comes at me like daggers and as I feel the white hot metal seer into my skin the whining stops and I'm struck with the absolute relief.

I hear a ringing now, and I blink, wiping at some liquid that has pooled under my eyes. _Blood. _I stare at it before the black starts creeping in from the corners of my vision.

The darkness quickly takes over.

-x-

_It's so dark. _

_ But it's getting brighter—brighter still. The light keeps increasing until finally it peaks at a blinding crescendo and I snap my eyes open, blinking. I'm in my room, the space ship posters staring back at me, and that one glow in the dark star I'd never been able to remove glints back at me from the corner. I sit up slowly, groaning at the stiffness in my joints as if they're packed with unruly rubber instead of cartilage. I force my limbs to move forward anyway until I push myself out of bed, yawning. _

_ Why am I so ridiculously tired? _

_ I decide that the best thing for this sleep hangover would be a bowl of sugar loaded cereal to wake me up and make my way to the door, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It's what I see when I lower my hands that stops me._

_ It's __**him.**_

___He stands there across from me, almost perfectly still as if he's been caught by surprise. As if __**I'm **__the one trespassing. That blue face remains twisted in that confused expression until it sets into a hard face of anger and rage. The white bonfire of his hair lights his face in an odd way in the dark room, making his expression all the more demonic. _

_ But he's not saying anything! It's completely unlike him to just stand there and __**stare **__at me. Usually he would've said something insulting by this point. And then his pose is defensive. I tighten my fists, and so does he. I watch his jaw clench in indifference, in perfect sync with me. What is he trying to do?_

_ Whatever it is, he's not getting away with humiliating me and beating me this time. I'm going to strike the first blow for once. I pounce forward, ready for a fight, and apparently so is he because he pounces at the exact same time._

_**CRACK. **_

_What my fist meets with is highly unexpected. It's solid, and cold, and it shatters on impact._

_ It's a mirror._

-x-

A/N: DUN DUN. That last bit was a dream XDDD ANYWHO. R&R~ ALSO—I have a new ask Onceler (from the Lorax) account on Twitter so… twi tter #!/ AskOnceler -remove the spaces.

AND REAL MEN SEW, BY THE WAY. Gotta love Clockwork XD ~QueenSkellington


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